Chapter Thirteen
Paige stumbled into the spare bedroom where Walter was thrashing around in
the bed, alternately shouting and mumbling the word no. "Walter, Walter,
it's all right," she murmured as she sat down on the mattress. Reaching out
her hand, she touched his sweat drenched face.
His eyes popped open, filled with confusion, and pain. . .and anger. "Don't
touch me," he snarled, slapping her fingers away.
"Walter, it's just a dream," she said with a calmness she didn't feel. "It's
me, Paige."
Gulping for air, he struggled to sit up, running a hand over his face. "Oh,
damn. . .sorry. . . I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"No, I'm okay. You were having a nightmare."
"I'm sor. . .sorry. I-I didn't mean to wake you." He was still trembling,
his eyes still filled with terror.
"I wasn't sleeping," she said. "Do you want to talk about it? Your dream,
nightmare. . ."
"No."
Paige recognized the signs he was closing down and reached for his hands,
hoping to keep him from shutting her out. "I've been discussing my dreams
with Dr Rizzuto," she said. "It-It helps. I mean, I still have them, but
they're not as often or as intense as they used to be. I could tell you about
one of them."
"You don't have to. . ."
"I want to."
She could hear resignation in his sigh. "Okay."
"We're in that room," she began, "and it was after we had. . .and the light
bulb, and they came in and . . .they were beating you. But they don't stop.
I try to stop them, but I can't, I can't move, and I feel so helpless. .
." She paused to take a deep breath. "But then they finally stop and. . .Oh,
God. . ." Focusing her gaze on him, an image from her nightmare, his battered
and bloody face, slid across her vision. "You're dying, barely breathing,
coughing up blood. . ."
"Paige. . .no. . ." He squeezed her hands, an expression of horror on his
face.
"Please, let me finish," she interrupted his protest. "I'm holding you in
my arms and you're dying, and you're trying to tell me something but. . ."
She bit her lip in a vain attempt to hold back her tears. "But you die before
you can say it."
She ducked her head, wiping at her cheeks. "I know you're trying to tell
me you love me, but you run out of time. I wake up crying."
She watched as he struggled to process what she had told him. "I'm. . .I'm
sorry," he finally said. "I wish I hadn't been such a moron. I wish I hadn't
fought my f-feelings for so long. I was scared. . . I-I'm still scared."
He stared down as their clasped hands. "You could do so much better than
me, s-someone who wouldn't require so much effort. . .s-someone with m-more
experience. . ."
"I don't want anyone else. I want you." She squeezed his hands before releasing
them. "I'm not perfect, Walter. Don't put me up on some kind of pedestal,
I'll just fall off." Touching her fingers to his face, she continued, "I'm
scared you'll grow tired of me, and. . .and want to experiment with other
women. . ."
"No, never," Walter vowed. "It's not like I haven't had other opportunities.
. .I have. But something always held me back." He lifted his eyes to hers.
"I. . .I think I was waiting for you."
"Oh, God, Walter. . . That's. . ." Instead of finishing her thought, she
leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.
He fell back against the mattress, bringing her with him. She straddled him,
and he could feel her heat through the layers of clothing and bedding. His
hands caressed their way down her back as she nipped his ear. A loud groan
escaped him as she rubbed herself against him. The unexpected sound brought
them both back to their senses.
"Sorry, I'm sorry," he murmured as she rolled off the bed. Neither of them
had mentioned it, but so far, they'd never had sex while Ralph was under
the same roof. The thought of the boy hearing them, or worse, walking in
on them, cooled his ardor as effectively as a bucket of ice water.
"It's not your fault," she replied, sitting back down on the mattress. "I-I
should go."
"No, stay." He scooted over and held up the comforter. "I, uh, nothing untoward,
um, I. . ."
"It's okay, Walter, I'll stay," she said as she climbed in beside him. Paige
snuggled her back against him and he encircled her in his arms, laying his
hand on her still flat stomach. Not that her pregnancy would be obvious yet.
She would be at six, nearly seven weeks. . .if she was pregnant. He'd done
some research, research which had done little to ease his mind. There were
so many variables, so many things could go wrong, not just with the fetus
but with the mother as well.
Closing his eyes, he could feel her drifting off to sleep, doubtful he would
be joining her any time soon.
An distant, yet persistent beeping sound caused Paige to crack open an eyelid.
It took a second for her to focus on the clock sitting on the nightstand,
which wasn't her nightstand. Oh, God, she was in the spare bedroom with Walter,
and it was time to get up so she could get Ralph ready for school. Not that
he needed her help much anymore other than the occasional prod.
She hopped out of the bed and hurried across the room as quietly as she could
so she didn't disturb Walter. Stepping through the door, she quickly closed
it behind her.
"Mom?"
Oh, damn. "Uh, Ralph. What do you want for breakfast?" she asked, hoping
to divert his attention.
"Mom, it's okay if you and Walter are sleeping together."
"Ralph!" Her face felt like it was on fire. This was not a discussion she
wanted to be having with her eleven-year old son at six-thirty in the morning.
"Mom," he said, dragging out the word into three syllables. "Approximately
one third of the kids in my class have divorced parents and another third
have parents who aren't married. There's one boy whose mom has a new sleep-over
boyfriend every couple of months."
"Oh, God, Ralph, that's horrible." She made her way to the kitchen and he
followed.
"You and dad weren't married. And I know you and Walter are in love." He
wrinkled his nose in disgust.
She put a box of cereal on the table. "I know, but. . . Maybe I don't want
you to grow up so soon."
Her son rolled his eyes. "Mom, I know how to look up stuff on the internet."
"You can't believe everything you read on the internet," she replied briskly,
wondering just how much ‘stuff' he had looked up. "And you're banned from
the computer for a week, except for homework."
"It's a little late for that."
"Do you want to make it a month?" He shook his head. "Good, now eat your
breakfast."
She darted out of the room and straight into Walter who was standing around
the corner. "Oh, God," she said, catching her breath. "How much of that did
you hear?"
"Most of it." He grinned as he put his arms around her to steady her. "He's
right, you know. He's a curious kid."
"I know," she said. "He probably knows more than I do."
"Don't worry," he reassured her. "I, uh, might have done the same. . .when
I was his age. It wasn't until I was older that I thought about, um, putting
my knowledge into practice." His cheeks grew red as he rubbed the back of
his head.
"Oh, God." She definitely didn't want to think about her son having sex.
Probably not anymore than he wanted to think about her doing the same. "I
have to get ready," she stated, not wanting to dwell on the uncomfortable
subject any longer.
"I was planning to buy a new car today, and I, um, was wondering if you'd
like to come with me?"
"Yeah, sure. Do you have a specific. . .?"
He shrugged. "Wherever you bought your car is fine with me."
"Okay." She smiled. "Could you check to see if Ralph is eating his breakfast?
There's cereal if you're hungry."
"Okay." Running his hand through his already messy curls, he shuffled toward
the kitchen, giving her a great view of his butt in his low-slung sweatpants.
Feeling her face flush again, she turned and dashed into the bathroom.
"I have to use the restroom," Paige announced as Walter parked in front of
the dealership.
"I'll just look around," he said. She gave him a quick smile then rushed
inside the building. He followed, a little overwhelmed by the sheer volume
of all the promotional items covering nearly every square inch of the interior.
It was too much to take in all at once. Blinking, he scanned the room for
something to focus on, stopping when he saw the bright red sports car in
the middle of the showroom.
A 2016 Corvette Stingray. It wasn't a Lamborghini or a Ferrari, but as an
American-made sports car, it was the top of the line. Moving closer, he ran
his fingertips over a sleek red fender.
"She's a beauty, isn't she?"
Walter turned to see a man standing a few feet away. "Yes."
The salesman, whose name tag declared his name was ‘Daryl', took a step toward
him. "She's got a 460 horsepower V-8 engine, with 465 maximum torque, does
zero to sixty in 3.7 seconds."
"Impressive." Walter ducked under the open hood to check out the engine.
"How does it handle?"
"Like a dream," said Daryl. "In fact, you can select from five different
driving modes, depending on road conditions."
"Hmm." Walter peered inside the vehicle, noting the leather seats were not
held together with duct tape. "Does it come with a manual transmission?"
"This one does. A seven-speed manual clutch system."
He glanced at the sticker price. $62,560. It would nearly empty out his bank
account but. . .to own such a powerful, precision vehicle. . . It was a life-long
dream.
"Nice car." Looking up, he watched Paige walking toward him and the salesman.
Daryl's smile changed to a frown in a nanosecond, probably thinking Walter
had no intention of buying the Corvette.
Which was true, if he was being honest with himself. The sports vehicle would
be impractical for someone like him, a man in love with a woman with a child,
with possibly another on the way. And even if she wasn't pregnant now, she
might be in the future.
Taking one last wistful glance at the shiny red roadster, Walter turned to
the salesman. "I'm interested in something like that." He pointed to Paige's
Malibu parked outside the showroom window.
Daryl sighed, and Walter noted the disappointment on the other man's face.
"This way, folks," the salesman said as he led them out onto the sales lot.
"I wonder what kind of car he bought," said Sylvester as he, Toby, and Happy
stood outside. Walter had called earlier, telling them he had purchased a
new vehicle, and he and Paige were on their way back to the garage.
"I'm guessing a muscle car," said the mechanic a bit excitedly. "Maybe a
Mustang or a Charger. That would be sweet."
"I think you're wrong." Toby grinned at them. "I'll bet you he bought a safe
sedate sedan."
Happy glared at him. "Bet?"
The shrink held up his hands. "Slip of the tongue," he replied. "Old habits
die hard."
"I agree with Happy," Sly cut in. "He's wanted a real sports car ever since
I've known him."
"We'll find out soon enough," said Happy, kicking a rock. "Here comes Paige."
The liaison drove up to the building in her Malibu, parking it in the nearest
open space. An identical vehicle, except for its dark blue color, pulled
up beside her.
"Damn I wish. . ." Toby started to say before Happy cut him off with a stare.
They all watched as Walter got out of the safe and sedate sedan.